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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24871750">every day brings something new</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosecake/pseuds/rosecake'>rosecake</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Arrow (TV 2012), Supergirl (TV 2015)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Curses, F/F, Magic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:53:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,296</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24871750</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosecake/pseuds/rosecake</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver recreated the universe, but the survivors still haven't figured out exactly which universe it was he saved.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kara Danvers/Earth-2 Laurel Lance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Fandom 5K 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>every day brings something new</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampirePaladin/gifts">VampirePaladin</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rain poured down in dark, heavy sheets, water striking the ground so loudly Laurel could barely hear her own thoughts above the noise. Floodwaters sluiced around her calves, and she moved slowly and carefully to avoid losing her footing.  </p><p>A low, distant wailing pierced through the rainfall and Laurel froze, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise. Another howl came, frighteningly inhuman, from somewhere to the west of her. She shuddered, but altered her course and made her way towards the noise. The water got up to her knees at points, but she moved as quickly as she dared, even though it sent splashing around her. There wasn’t much need for stealth. The rain was louder than any noise she was making.  </p><p>The persistent scratch in her throat was acting up, and she swallowed it down. Ahead of her, the snuffing, discordant wailing was growing louder.  </p><p>What a terrible time for her powers to be on the fritz. She unholstered her gun, holding it with both hands as she slowly moved forward. Her sonic scream had been unreliable since the multiverse collapsed in on itself, and the threats to human life and limb had only gotten worse. So she’d been forced to expand her toolkit.  </p><p>Her throat spasmed and she swallowed, again, trying to ignore it. </p><p>Suddenly, the animal noises stopped, and she stopped too, straining to hear any sound of movement.  It was so dark she could barely see a foot in front of her face. But she was sure there was something out there, close, waiting for her just out of sight.  </p><p>She didn’t hear a thing. Whatever it was moved fast and soundless as it lashed out, striking her across her chest.  She struck the water as she fell but managed to hold onto her gun, and then the creature struck her arm and she let it go with a choked off scream.  She scrambled backwards, away from the roaring maw in her face. </p><p>She opened her mouth and sputtered on rainwater for a moment before she could clear her throat, and let out a hoarse scream. Not nearly loud enough to end the fight, but at least it bought her a few precious seconds.  </p><p>The chill of the rain and no small amount of fear left her cold, in joints and in her core, and she felt stiff as she tried to move. She rolled in the water as the monster lunged her, and then stumbled as she came to her feet.  </p><p>The thing was almost formless in the rain, but she could see long tusks jutting out from its mouth, ready to impale her. That would explain the state of some of the bodies they’d found floating in the flood waters across Star City over the past week.  She was becoming slightly concerned she might be found in the same state.  </p><p>No, no, she couldn’t let that happen. She had people relying on her, even if they were all so busy they barely saw each other these days.  </p><p>A scream curled up deep in her throat, and she knew it was wrong even before the noise of it reached her ears. Too quiet and too loud at the same time, almost as if was only in her head.  Wrong pitch.  Wrong everything. </p><p>The sound doesn’t move the rain - and it should have, it should have sent the water backwards in a wave - but the monster falls to the ground anyway. Laurel tensed, waiting for it to get back up, to fight her, but it remained motionless on the ground as she counted off the seconds in her head.  When she reached thirty she took a tentative step closer. It remained as still as ever, and so she unclipped her flashlight and shone it in the monster’s face. The features of its face had gone slack, and Laurel was confident she’d killed it. She took a quick picture of the body with her phone and forwarded it to the database. Maybe somebody would be  able to tell her what it was.  </p><p>The adrenaline wore off as she walked, leaving her freezing and tired and still too far from her apartment. </p><p>She hadn’t meant to kill it. For all she know it was some kind of alien, or a being accidentally crossed over from another Earth. Maybe all the dead people had been accidents. Who was she to judge? But she really hadn’t wanted to be gutted like a fish. She didn’t feel great about leaving it, either, but she also wasn’t about to try and drag home a body four times her size. And who was there to come pick it up? In this weather? Everyone had enough problems trying to keep the world up and running. </p><p>She wished they had enough people to work in teams. She had years and years of working solo under her belt, so she’d offered to take these ugly night shifts alone, but she missed having backup.  Or at least company. </p><p>Who knew, maybe the body would just disappear. That happened a lot these days. A thousand worlds had died, and then been very hastily slapped back together, and they all were still trying to figure out which world exactly was going to be the one that survived.  </p><p>When the multiverse had first collapsed in on itself, Star City had turned into a desert. They’d had a dry, parching heat, hot enough to melt pavement, for about a week. And then it been a cold, relentless blizzard. And then for the past month it had been rain, more rain that the city was built to handle. If the weather didn’t switch again they’d have to rename the city New Venice.  </p><p>By the time she got home and out of a warm shower she’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be dry. She fell into bed, her hair still soaking wet, and was asleep in minutes.  </p><p><i>-</i> </p><p>It was still raining when she woke up, and her phone showed no knew messages. She dragged herself out of bed and to the bathroom sink. </p><p>It took her a moment to recognize herself. Mostly because of her hair - very short and very, very blond, so light it looked almost white in the dim light of her bathroom. But that had been the point of the change, right?  She didn’t look anything like Laurel Lance, the original. She didn’t have to worry about people mistaking her for Laurel Lance, the original. She was Laurel Lance, the replacement, at least until the universe realized its mistake and replaced her.  </p><p>But while she was still here she wasn’t trying to trick anyone about who she was.  </p><p>She also looked like she hadn’t slept in roughly a decade. Dark circles made her eyes look bruised, and there was a hollow look to her cheeks as well. It made her look like she already had a foot in the grave. Well, the world turning in on itself had been hard on everyone.  </p><p>Laurel splashed water on her face. Oliver had died for this world. It was kind of falling apart, but that wasn’t his fault. He’d done his part and now it was time for her and everyone else to make sure it held together.  </p><p>A tapping noise came from the window in her living room, and at first she dismissed it as the rain, but then it turned to banging.  </p><p>She was on the tenth floor, the highest in the building. After all the team’s old basement hideouts had flooded, she’d figured it would be smart to go high. So, really, not a lot of people could be at her window.  </p><p>She went to open it, letting in a whole lot of rain and also Kara Danvers.  </p><p>“Ah, sorry about that,” she said, rain dripping off her cloak and all over Laurel’s floor. “Do you have towels?” </p><p>Laurel pointed to her bathroom, and after a few disorienting flashes Kara was standing in the middle of her dry living room holding a few wet towel.  </p><p>“Did you get my texts?” she asked, and Laurel shook her head. Satellite service was up but unreliable. Every now and then the laws of physics just weren’t working the way they’d been designed before. “Oh, sorry about showing up unannounced, then. But your dad - wait, sorry, sorry, not your dad, I meant- I mean he is kind of, right? Sorry-“ </p><p>“You talked to Quentin,” said Laurel, hoping to get her back on track. “Yes! Mr. Lance said you’d been having trouble with your powers and nobody in Star City could figure out why.”  </p><p>“Everybody’s been having issues with their powers,” said Laurel. “I’m sure I’m pretty far down on the list of people needing fixing.” </p><p>“Everyone is a priority,” said Kara. Laurel watched as she undid the hooded cloak she was wearing. Underneath it she was wearing the same old costume, including the cape, which seemed a little redundant under the cloak. Maybe the gloves were new too. Laurel couldn’t remember. They’d only met a handful of times. “And, besides, a lot of issues are kind of resolving themselves. Or at least turning into new and different problems. But for now I brought <i>this</i>.” </p><p>She held up a heavy looking black box with a glass casing. She looked just as worn out as Laurel, with the same dark circles under her eyes, but she still managed to beam as she held it up.</p><p>“Oh,” said Laurel. “What is it?”  </p><p>“That’s right, I forgot you haven’t seen one of these yet,” said Kara sheepishly. “It’s a mobile medi-scanner. J’onn put it together with some of the techs from the DEO. Like you said, a lot of meta humans have had their powers go haywire recently, so he designed it as a diagnostic tool. Think of it as whole medical testing facility crammed into a portable box.”  </p><p>“Neat. How does it work?” </p><p>“It’s already working, actually, see?” Kara pressed something and diagrams suddenly flashed across the glass front of it. Laurel figured they must be of her - her skeletal system, circulatory system, muscles. Her heart and her lungs. And her vocal cords. A few green bars popped up along the other side of it. </p><p>“Green is good, right?” asked Laurel.<br/>
“Yes,” said Kara with a drawn out hesitancy that made it sound more like a no. “I mean, it’s normal.” </p><p>“And?” prompted Laurel. “It doesn’t sound like that’s a good thing.” </p><p>“It’s too normal,” said Kara, turning the box over and squinting at the readouts. “I mean, you’re a normal healthy human, but you’re not supposed to be a normal human. You’re a meta human. Based on your medical history, there should be mutations in your vocal cords. And your lungs and your throat and your ear canals, too, but most noticeably in the vocal cords. “ </p><p>Laurel ran a hand along her throat. “I was able to use it last night,” she said. “It felt wrong, though. Different.”  </p><p>Kara furrowed her brow. “Well, step one is always using science to try and figure out what’s wrong.”<br/>
“I take it there’s a step two, then?” </p><p>“Well, yes. I prefer J’onn’s approach, but when that doesn’t work… Well, there’s always the other John’s approach.”  </p><p>They knew too many Johns, but based on the faint note of disapproval in Kara’s voice Laurel didn’t think she was talking about John Diggle. “John Constantine?  You mean magic?”   </p><p>“Yep. Unfortunately, the old multiverse had an even wider variety of magical laws than it did physical laws, so that’s been a real fun source of chaos recently, but he taught us a few tricks, including what he called ‘a minor revelation ritual’,” she said, doing a quick imitation of his accent. “Do you have any salt?”   </p><p><i>-</i> </p><p>It turned out that Laurel had just enough salt in her pantry to finish the series of thin circular patterns Kara drew on her living room floor. She’d pushed the carpet and the table to the side so she could carefully pour it directly on the wood.  </p><p>“Okay,” said Kara, wiping her hands together to knock errant salt off her gloves. “That looks right. If you could step in the middle without smudging it?” </p><p>After a moment’s hesitation Laurel did. She’d never had much love for the arcane arts. Once she was in place, Kara’s eye’s flashed red, and a spark caught on the outermost edge of the pattern. It burst into a bright, unearthly blue flame that slowly traced its way along the salt paths until the whole pattern was lit.  </p><p>No smoke, no burning wood, just an unnatural light. Laurel watched it for a moment, ill at ease, until all of a sudden she felt the burning <i>inside</i> her, sparking deep in the hollow of her lungs.  A cold flame, stinging like frostbite. </p><p>“Kara,” she tried to say, but her voice was cracked. She took a deep, heaving breath, and felt her lungs swell with some foreign power.  </p><p>“Are you okay,” said Kara, reaching for. “It’s not supposed to-“ </p><p><i>Run</i>, thought Laurel, but she didn’t dare say anything. She clenched her jaw, trying to swallow it down, but she could already feel it pressing out, trying to escape from the confines of her body. <i>Please run</i>. </p><p>But of course Kara didn’t run. She leaned in, concerned, and reached for Laurel’s shoulder. </p><p>And as her hand crossed the circle Laurel screamed.</p><p><i>-</i> </p><p>A lot of thoughts clamored for her attention as Laurel slowly woke. Her throat hurt. She could smell pancakes. She might have accidentally hurt Kara? It was dark, and the rain had died down but not stopped entirely. She might have killed Kara? But if Kara was dead, who was in her apartment making pancakes? </p><p>She dragged herself up from the couch. Kara had gathered every candle Laurel owned on the kitchen table and lit them. The power must be out. But how was she cooking if the power was out? Heat vision, right. That would get a pan up to temperature.  </p><p>“Hey, you’re awake! How are you feeling?” asked Kara. Without waiting for an answer, she added, “I’m making pancakes. I hope you don’t mind. I thought it would make you feel better.”    </p><p>“Did I hurt you?” asked Laurel, rubbing her throat. She needed a warm drink. A cup of tea, maybe. </p><p>“Not at all. I’ve never seen such an explosive reaction to the ritual, but fortunately it’s got some protection charms built in,” said Kara. She slid the pancake she was working on over to a plate, where she already had a nice stack, and set the pan down on the stove. “Are you hungry?” </p><p>“Not really,” said Laurel. </p><p>Kara was at her side in an instant when she stood up. “Maybe you should sit down for a minute,” she said. The forced casual tone in her voice put Laurel’s nerves on edge. </p><p>“Kara,” said Laurel, unsure of what else to say. I’m glad you’re not dead? Please leave and take your pancakes with you? </p><p>“Look,” said Kara, a little nervously, “I’ve actually seen something like this before, and it should be manageable, probably.”  </p><p>Laurel stared at her for a moment. Her brain felt completely fried. “Like what? What are you talking about it?” </p><p>“Ah, well,” she said, stammering a bit. “Have you ever heard of banshee?” </p><p>And, not for the first time over the past year or so, Laurel felt like she might be losing her mind. “Yes, I’ve heard of a banshee? What does that have to do with anything?” </p><p>“I just think you might want to prepare yourself before you look in a mirror,” said Kara. “Like, maybe if you ate something, it might-“ </p><p>Laurel stepped around Kara, who fortunately didn’t try to stop her, and went to look at herself in the mirror. </p><p>Well, she had wanted a new look, hadn’t she? Pale silver hair, paper white skin, and heavy black marks around her eyes and her mouth and all the hollow places in her bone structure. Less like she had one foot in the grave and more like she’d been dead for centuries.   </p><p>“Come on, just have a pancake,” said Kara. “Everything’s easier to take with a full stomach.”  </p><p><i>-</i> </p><p>“So I’m cursed,” said Laurel, stabbing her pancake with her fork. She was on her third one. They were good and she was a little angry about it.  </p><p>“Not cursed. We’d know if you were cursed. I mean, yes, banshees can curse people, but I think it’s just that you <i>are</i> a banshee. For now, anyway. Somewhere in out in the vast old multiverse there’s a version of you that was a banshee, and now this new universe is all confused about it and trying to fix something that wasn’t broken in the first place.”  </p><p>Laurel thought back to the first week or so after the multiverse collapsed, back when she and literally everyone else in the universe suddenly got slammed with memories of lives they’d never left. Most people had settled, and their memories had faded.  Some people had ended up doppelgängers. A couple were claiming to have full on split personalities. But most people just had faded memories, no more substantial than dreams. </p><p>She didn’t remember having been a fucking <i>banshee</i>.  </p><p>Outside the rain had stopped, but barely and light came through her drawn blackout curtains. Strange that Kara had decided to go with candles instead of sunlight. </p><p>“I know it must feel strange, but for some version of you it must’ve been normal,” said Kara. “Here, in this universe, my powers are natural. But there are worlds out there were I got them from science experiments, and worlds where I got them from magic. In some I don’t have any powers at all.” She poked at her food, half uneaten despite her own advice about a full stomach. And the fact that they were good pancakes. “I might still settle as one of those versions of me.”  </p><p>Oliver told them things would coalesce before he died. He said it would be hard, and chaotic, but the new universe would settle into its own patterns where life could go on for the billions of people living in it. But he’d been the Spectre for all of a day, so who knew what he might have missed? Maybe the whole universe would spiral further and further out of control until the whole thing collapsed. Just a delay in the inevitable.  </p><p>Laurel sighed and stood up. It had been weeks since she last saw the sun, maybe she was just developing a mood disorder. A little light might help her mood. </p><p>“Wait!” said Kara, and Laurel froze with her hand outstretched for her curtains. “I need you to keep them shut.  And, um, I also need to to crash here until the sun goes down.” </p><p>“What?” Laurel didn’t know her that well, but that still sounded uncharacteristic.  “Aren’t you, like, literally powered by the sun?” </p><p>“I was!” said Kara, twisting her fingers together. “I mean, I still do, it’s just that recently things are a little more complicated.    </p><p>She started to peel off one of her gloves. Laurel figured she was spending way too much time around the costume crowd because it hadn’t struck her as odd that Kara had left them on even while she was cooking and eating.  But once she pulled the glove free it was clear something was wrong with her hand.  It was gray, and even in the darkness Laurel could tell that the texture was all wrong. Almost like rock. </p><p>Kara flexed her fingers, and Laurel realized that she’d been right. They were stone.  “Sunlight makes it spread,” said Kara. “Kind of a Catch-22, unfortunately, but I’ve been making due with UV lamps.  </p><p>“I’m sorry,” said Laurel. “What happened?” </p><p>Kara shrugged as she pulled her glove back on. “I’m not sure. Some other version of me got cursed, and one morning I woke up and it was my curse. Maybe I got in a fight with an evil sorcerer, or maybe I was trying to make an exchange with a demon. Or, who knows, maybe I was the villain and someone was trying to stop me. It doesn’t really matter how it happened. I’m just hoping it’ll unhappen sometime soon.” </p><p>Bad enough to have to live with the scars of your own life, it didn’t seem fair to have to carry the scars of a million other lives too. </p><p>“You can’t go out in the day at all?  Even covered?”  </p><p>Kara shook her head.  “The cloak helps for short trips, but if it’s bright enough out it won’t help for long. I’m stuck as a night owl.  Or a very-heavy-cloud-cover owl.”  </p><p>“That’s a shame,” said Laurel. “You don’t really strike me as the night-time type.” </p><p>“I’m getting used to it,” said Kara, smiling a little. “It’s not like there isn’t plenty to do at night. I just hate feeling so useless, especially when so much is going on.”  </p><p>Laurel tapped her fingers along her arm. “You know, it must rain ninety perfect of the time here,” said Laurel. “And it’s been rough with my powers all jacked up. If you wanted to work out Star City it would help a lot, and you’d be able to get out more.  At least until the weather changes again.”    </p><p>Kara looked at her, and for a moment Laurel felt pitied, which made no sense. She’d made the offer hoping it might cheer Kara up. It hadn’t been for her. It wasn’t like she was lonely, cut off by the rain and the bad comms and all the night work.  </p><p>Then Kara smiled. “Sure,” she said. “I’d really like that.” </p><p><i>-</i> </p><p>Kara ended up crashing Laurel’s couch, and overnight a studio apartment that had felt too empty suddenly felt almost too full of energy to handle.  There was a lot more baking, and a lot more television, and a lot less sitting in the dark by herself trying to resist the urge to drink. </p><p>There was also, somewhat paradoxically, a lot more for Laurel to worry about.  </p><p>Kara was wearing her shirt - well, Sara’s shirt, but Laurel had been in possession of it for a while now - and for the first time in a while Laurel got a good look at her bare arms. </p><p>“Why are you staring at me?” she asked. </p><p>Laurel snapped her head back to the television. They were watching a cooking competition, which Laurel didn’t see the point of. She didn’t like being shown food she couldn’t eat.  But she’d thought Kara would be too engrossed to notice her looking.<br/>
She thought about lying, or changing the subject, but she’d have to bring up eventually.  “Your arm has gotten worse.”<br/>
Kara looked at her, and then looked at her arm. “I don’t think it’s changed?”<br/>
“You’re kidding, right?” Laurel looked at her arm again, at the petrification that had crept right past her elbow and halfway up to her shoulder. “You need to spend let time outside.” </p><p>“It’s fine,” said Kara, tugging on her sleeve, which was too short to really hide anything. “It doesn’t even hurt.”  </p><p>“Maybe not now, but what about when it gets worse?” “I said it was fine,” said Kara, suddenly standing up.  </p><p>It was hard to hide away and sulk in a studio apartment, but she managed it. And after that she stopped wearing short sleeved shirts.  </p><p>Fine. Laurel could take a hint. Kara was an adult, she could handle her own problems however badly she wanted to.      </p><p><i>-</i> </p><p>It took a couple of tries to get through to Sara. The ongoing telecomm situation wasn’t great, and trying to get through to the Waverider was tricky at the best of times. But after a few days of trying Laurel lucked out.  </p><p>“Laurel! Good to see you! Hey, are you doing something different with your hair again?” </p><p>“Where’s Constantine?” said Laurel, realizing a second later that she’d talked right over her. “Sorry, sorry. It’s good to see you too.” </p><p>“But I take it you were actually hoping to talk to Constantine?” </p><p>“Yes,” said Laurel. “It’s kind of an emergency. I need his help with a friend of mine.” </p><p>Sara sighed. “Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I have no idea where he is. A couple of weeks ago he left a note saying was going to hell and not to worry, he’d make his own way back. Except the note was written in blood, so, uh, that was pretty worrying regardless. We’re looking into it. In the meantime, I can offer you Gary?” </p><p>Laurel stared at the screen. The name sounded familiar, she just couldn’t place it. “Who’s Gary again?” </p><p>“You know, Gary,” said Sara. Laurel didn’t say anything, and Sara sighed. “I know you’ve met him before. Dark hair? Glasses? Constantly hangs around John?” </p><p>“Oh, no,” said Laurel. She did remember Gary. “Thank you, but no. We’re good.”  </p><p>“Yeah, fair enough. I’m sure you’ll be able to figure something out on your own.” </p><p>Laurel thought about Kara’s arm, and the stone that was starting to creep into her shoulder, even though Kara insisted it was the same it had always been.  “I hope so,” she said. “So how are things with the timeline?” </p><p>“Completely fucked,” said Sara, giving her thumbs up. “But the Legends are on it!”  </p><p>“Great!” said Laurel, with what she hoped was a lot more enthusiasm that she felt. “I’ll talk to you soon!”  </p><p><i>-</i> </p><p>Laurel’s apartment had been taken over by stacks of books and journals. Most of them from Kara - Laurel had talked to everyone she knew who knew anything about magic, but she’d had a short list. Fortunately Kara seemed better connected.  </p><p>A lot of them were in alien languages, though, which meant Laurel couldn’t do much besides scan them for pictures that looked relevant. It made her feel about as useful as a kindergartner.  </p><p>“Can you read this?” she asked, lifting up a book with a drawing of statute screaming and flinching away from some unseen monster.  </p><p>Kara looked at it and shook her head. Laurel almost told her to come over and actually look at it before she remembered the super vision. “I’ll send a photo to J’onn, maybe he can read it.”  The stone pattern drawn on the statute looked a lot like Kara’s skin - lightly marbled, with delicate cracks around her joints - but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. </p><p>Kara’s arms were covered at the moment. She was wearing a long sleeved shirt along with her gloves, and Laurel wanted to tell her she could take them off, that the stone look didn’t bother her, but she held her tongue. It was probably less about how Laurel felt and more about how Kara herself felt. </p><p>And if Laurel were honest with herself, seeing it did bother her. The constant reminder that it was getting worse bothered her.  </p><p>Her own problems were fading. The hollows of her eyes were still unnaturally dark, but her other than that she looked a lot less skull-faced than she had a few weeks earlier.  </p><p>She moved on, flipping through the rest of the book. They were looking for a lot of things at once.  Anti-petrification spells, curse removal. Monster identification for all the brand new fauna in the area. Anti-rain charms. The rain had eased up some but not stopped, and the city was still in a semi-permanent flood state.  Lots of problems with an unfortunate lack of solutions.  </p><p>Kara looked tired. </p><p>“Do you want to take a nap?” she asked. Kara wasn’t sleeping much - she spent most of her nights out, and most of the days too, unless the sun started to peek through the clouds. She said Kryptonians didn’t need much sleep, but Laurel wasn’t sure if that was true or just meaningless reassurance.  “You can take the bed for a while. I know the couch can get old.”<br/>
“No thanks.” </p><p>But she’d hesitated before answering, so Laurel pushed her. “Just a few hours, come on. It’ll do you good.” </p><p>Kara relented, and a few hours turned into six, and then a full eight, and after that Laurel didn’t really believe her about the Kryptonian thing anymore. And she was starting to get tired herself, but she didn’t want to wake Kara up from her first solid sleep since she’d known her.  A month now, maybe?  It felt like longer.  </p><p>She sighed and stretched her arms, and watched Kara sleeping for a moment. Even thought about crawling in beside her. That would be fine, right?  It was a big enough bed that they could each have their separate side and not even come close to touching. Except that the whole reason Laurel had a bed that big was because she was a sprawler.  </p><p>She yawned, and made her peace with sleeping on the couch. </p><p><i>-</i> </p><p>Kara stood over her, hands on her hips. “You should have woken me up!”  </p><p>Laurel rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. The petulant tone in Kara’s voice was actually kind of cute, but the urge to tease her about it a little evaporated when she noticed the gray stone edging its way up her neck. </p><p>“It’s still getting worse,” said Laurel.  Kara froze, and Laurel felt bad that she’d let her get away with long-sleeved shirts and avoidance for so long.  “Why are you getting worse?” </p><p>Kara shrugged, crossing her arms tightly. “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe it’s time, maybe it’s just that the sun is out more, even if I am inside or covered up.”<br/>
“Then why go outside at all?” said Laurel. “Don’t you have a base in the Arctic circle? You can stay there and hide from the sun until it’s fixed.” </p><p>“I don’t want to go hide in a cave!” said Kara. “There are so many people out there hurting worse than me, I can’t leave it alone. Not when I’m the one who failed to stop it in the first place.” “Helping less is better if the alternative is never being able to help anyone again,” said Laurel. “And you know it wasn’t your fault, that’s nonsense.”  </p><p>She reached out and put her palm on the crook of Kara’s neck, feeling the place where the stone incursion met normal skin. The skin was cool to the touch, even so close to warm skin. She said the arm didn’t bother her much, but what about when it reached her lungs? Her heart, her brain? It was impossible to say what might happen. </p><p>“Have you thought about going home?” she asked.  Kara had a family. Friends. A lot of people who cared about her, and Laurel was sure it was a much less complicated kind of love and affection than anything Laurel inspired among her own circle.  </p><p>Kara shook her head. “It’s easier to hide over the phone,” she said. “If I go back they’re just going to worry. They’ll take it even worse than you are.” </p><p>Laurel wasn’t sure if it was something Kara ought to be hiding, but she didn’t think she was in any place to lecture either.  </p><p>“Alright,” she said. “Just stop trying to hide it from me.”   </p><p><i>-</i> </p><p>The list of failed solutions got a little longer every day: kryptonite (made it worse, and Laurel’s still not sure why they tried it), sage (did nothing), water from a sacred spring on Earth (nothing), water from a sacred spring on Mars (more nothing), chemotherapy drugs (nothing), alien flowers known for their healing properties (turned Kara’s hair purple for a few days, but other than that, nothing). And on and on. </p><p>“You can take a break,” said Kara. “It’s a nice day to relax.”  </p><p>The stone had edged up to her jawline. A fine web of cracks in the stone appeared every time she moved her head, but they only ever lasted for moment. When she was still she was as smooth as marble.  </p><p>That morning the rain had given way to a soft, steady snowfall even though they were halfway into July. The apartment was warm, though, and she’d acquired a lot of knew throws since Kara had moved in with her. The whole thing would be cozy if she weren’t so frustrated.  </p><p>“I’ll spend my time how I like,” she said, looking down at the book in her hands. “It’s mine.”  Kara smiled. “I know,” she said. “I’m not trying to argue with you.”  </p><p>She had such a bright smile. It didn’t seem fair that she couldn’t go out in the sunlight. In a more just world, their positions would be reversed - it wouldn’t be so much of a loss for Laurel.   </p><p>But in the warmth Laurel started to let her worries slip away. Kara brought her a mug of tea, and she cradled it in her hands. Maybe the situation would resolve itself. Maybe they would wake up one morning and find her changed, just like the weather, back to normal. Or some kind of new normal that wasn’t all that bad. Laurel could handle being a banshee if meant the world survived. If she could survive in it, along with everyone she cared about.  </p><p>The shift happened so suddenly it hardly registered at first. The world turned, and remembered that it was supposed to be July, not January, and the weather was all wrong. And it made a correction. </p><p>Suddenly, the sky wasn’t dark with snow and clouds. Suddenly it was a bright July afternoon, sunlight streaming in through her open windows. Kara turned her head, and she looked fine - she wasn’t a vampire, she didn’t start smoking or burst into flame, but for the first time the curse works so fast that Laurel can actually see the stone spreading across her cheek.  </p><p>Once it hit her she moved as fast as she could force her limbs. She threw her throw over Kara’s head, pushing her down behind the couch while she pushed the drapes shut.  Her heart hammered as she pulled Kara over to the bed.  </p><p>Then she went still, trying to collect herself.  Kara was still tangled up in the blanket, and she tentatively pulled it free.  “How bad is it?” she asked.  </p><p>“Oh, Kara,” said Laurel. It had moved across her cheek and now covered half her face - her right eye was smooth and gray, no pupil, no lense, just cold and lifeless stone. And Laurel wasn’t sure if it was just her vindictive imagination, but it looked like it was still spreading, slower now but still dangerous.  </p><p>“I guess it’s bad, then,” said Kara, reaching for Laurel, stone fingers sliding through her hair.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” said Laurel. She pulled Kara close and kissed her, her mouth half flesh and half rock, and wished she’d thought to do it sooner, before things got so bad. While she was sure Kara could really feel it. “I’m so sorry, Kara.” </p><p>Kara settled her head on Laurel’s shoulder. “In fairytales a kiss always fixes anything,” she said, leaning in. She was always adamant the curse didn’t hurt, but Laurel could hear pain in her voice.  </p><p>“It’s a shame it doesn’t fix anything here,” said Laurel. </p><p>“Well, maybe we just haven’t tried hard enough. </p><p><i>-</i> </p><p>“Of course kissing doesn’t work. What are you, children?” </p><p>Laurel had been happy to have John Constantine back at first, mostly because she thought he might be able to help. And then she’d been reminded what he could be like, and now she was resisting the urge to throttle him.  </p><p>It didn’t help that Kara had been unnecessarily thorough in going over everything they’d tried already.  Out of the corner of her eye she could see Sara trying to sign something at her. Laurel ignored her.  </p><p>“I mean, it was in a lot of the books on curse-“ started Kara, and John interrupted her. </p><p>“Most of what you read in books is just fairytales,” he said.  “Real magic requires a lot of blood, sweat, and tears. Or carefully aligned sex positions. Have you tried actual sex yet?”  </p><p>Laurel was of the opinion that John was completely fucking full of it, but they took his advice anyway. After all, even it didn’t work, it wasn’t like they wouldn’t have a good time trying. </p><p><i>-</i> </p><p>“It’s a full moon,” said Kara, holding the book sideways to get a better look at what Laurel was politely going to call a diagram. They'd been at it for a few weeks but Kara still blushed every time she opened it. Laurel was certain it was the most pornographic think Kara had ever laid eyes on. “So I think that means you’re supposed to be on top tonight?” </p><p>The first night hadn’t done much curse-wise. It had been nice, though, just on its own merits, and they’d both agreed they ought to try it at least a few more times. Just to be sure.<br/>
And maybe it was just wishful thinking, but Laurel was starting to see some signs of improvement.  </p><p>She might owe John an apology for the glass she’d thrown at him.  </p><p><i>-</i> </p><p>One morning she woke up, and Kara looked back at her with two bright blue eyes. </p><p>“You look happy,” she said.  “Did you have a nice dream?”  Laurel ran her palm along Kara’s face - the rock was still covering a wide expanse of her cheek, and her ear, but she had two human eyes were she used to only have one.  Proof she was getting better, proof that it wasn’t getting worse.  Something they were doing was working like a charm.  </p><p>She tried to remember which position they’d tried last night.  There had been a couple, hadn’t there?  </p><p>“I hardly ever remember my dreams,” she said, rolling over to pin Kara to the bed. If they weren’t sure which position had worked they’d have to try all of them all over again. “I’m just having a nice morning.”</p>
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